


First Date

by JG_Djinn



Category: Shall We Date?: Guard Me Sherlock!+, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, シャーロック | Sherlock: Untold Stories (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Heterosexual Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JG_Djinn/pseuds/JG_Djinn
Summary: This story is an imagining of what would happen if a post-Season-Four Sherlock decided to ask John out on a date.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 15





	First Date

**Author's Note:**

> This version of Sherlock is asexual and (possibly very recently) out to himself. He may or may not have the vocabulary to express it that way, but at the point when this story takes place he’s realized and accepted how his sexuality works.
> 
> For anyone who’s not familiar with what it means to be asexual - for example, if you think an asexual person never has sex, or can’t have committed/romantic/sexual relationships - please watch this video (just 5 short minutes - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZGhxU6FnXA), and/or check out the website asexuality.org. Both are very informative.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story! I’ll be very honored to read and respond to any questions, critiques, insights etc. - just post them in the comments, or send them to me directly. Thank you!!!
> 
> Yours, JG

221b Baker Street. 

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are standing in the living room, facing off like two men before a duel. Sherlock holds his head high, haughtily dramatic, while John squares his shoulders, fists clenched, staring at his friend in obvious exasperation. 

‘Listen, Sherlock. I cannot believe I’m having to say this yet again. I - AM - NOT - GAY.’

Sherlock takes a deep breath and narrows his gaze, glaring at John for a long beat. He then darts forward, gripping John roughly by the upper arms. He pulls John close, his intentions obvious. 

John begins to jerk away. 

Then both freeze. Their eyes lock. 

Slowly, carefully, Sherlock moves to close the distance between them. John remains frozen, watching Sherlock’s approach, only shutting his eyes when Sherlock’s lips meet his own. 

It’s a slow kiss, hesitant but intense. And then, equally slowly, Sherlock pulls away. He lets go of John’s shoulders, drops his arms to his sides, and takes a large step back.

‘So tell me, John,’ he says after a pause. ‘How did that - feel?’ 

John glares back, opening his mouth to reply when Sherlock interrupts him.

‘Wait. Stop. Before you answer, please, do something for me. Allow your mind to...how do I put this? To... _connect_...to your _physical body_. I certainly know that you’re capable of it - in fact of the two of us I believe you’re the expert in this particular area.’

Another pause. John frowns and then looks down, pondering the tips of his shoes. 

‘So? Honestly, John. Tell me what you feel.’

John hesitates, breathing in sharply. ‘Ok...Ok,’ he says. ‘I feel….’ 

‘Yes?’

‘I feel...a-...um...’ Sherlock’s eyebrows raise. John looks up. ‘Alright. I feel...aroused. A little aroused. But, that doesn’t change -’

‘Oh for god’s sake, please don’t repeat it!’ 

Sherlock stops himself and takes another deep breath, visibly making an effort to level out his tone. 

‘Listen to me, John. I know very, very well that you’re not homosexual. That couldn’t be more evident. Since I’ve known you, you've had relations with a not insignificant number of women, and fallen in love with at least one. I have absolutely no doubt that you’re attracted to women. Alright? Am I being clear?’ He shakes his head, his frustration obvious. ‘It is in no way my intention to call into question or second-guess your sexual identity.

‘But all the same - and again, I’m asking you to really... _feel_ this out - is there the slightest possibility that you’re also attracted...to me? Not to men. But to me. To this person, standing in front of you, right now.’ 

John stares at him, visibly confused.

‘Here’s the thing, John. It’s taken me _years_ to admit this to myself. But I - I’m enormously, overwhelmingly...how do I put this. _Taken_ with you. It’s been extremely difficult for me to...to allow myself to feel it. But there it is. And despite your loud and frequent assertions of your heterosexuality, I am relatively certain that you are indeed attracted to me - that I’m NOT just a friend to you. I’ve suspected it since the day after we met.’

Sherlock pauses, taking in John’s open-mouthed disorientation.

‘Now I do admit that of course I could be...wrong. That I’ve misinterpreted the signals and that in fact I’m imagining your attraction. Tell me I am, and I swear to you I will never again bring up this topic. I’ll be grateful if you allow me to remain your friend, and I’ll deal with my...’ he hesitates, ‘... _emotions_...in my own way. 

‘But please, I am literally begging you. Tell me the truth. What you truly feel.’

After a long pause, John takes another deep breath. ‘I think I...need to sit down.'

‘Oh...Okay…’ Sherlock nods, hiding a frown beneath a small, amused smile. ‘Please then, let’s sit.’

John goes to settle into his chair, but Sherlock shakes his head, motioning instead to the sofa. John hesitates briefly, then shrugs, scoots past the coffee table and takes the seat on the right. Sherlock watches him settle, then drops into the seat opposite. He sits stiffly upright, attentive & patient, while John stares at the carpet, elbows out, hands on knees. 

‘Ok. Fine,’ John finally starts. ‘Yes, I admit it. There are times - not all the time, mind you, but it’s happened - that I feel attracted to you.’ 

John looks up from under his brows, finally meeting Sherlock’s gaze. Sherlock’s eyes widen, his patient expression breaking into a large, relieved smile. He tips forward and groans, face in his hands.

‘Hey,’ John says, shaking his head in mild amusement. ‘What’s up now? You okay?’

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ Sherlock replies, voice muffled by the sofa cushion. ‘Just reacting to the copious amounts of adrenaline that are currently flooding my system. But _my god_ -’ John starts, laughing in spite of himself. ‘You have - _no idea_ \- how terrifying that was.’

John, still smiling, pats him on the back.

‘Yeah, I bet.’ 

For a moment they sit quietly, Sherlock prone, John bemused. Then, slowly, Sherlock sits back up, taking another moment to compose himself. He doesn’t notice the shift in John’s expression, which has again darkened. 

Sherlock opens his mouth to speak, but John cuts him off.

‘Hang on,’ John says, shaking his head. ‘Sherlock, what does it matter?’

Sherlock stops and cocks his head, brows knit, perplexed. 

‘Really,’ John continues, ‘why are we even discussing this? You say you’re, what, taken with me? What does that even mean? Are you even attracted to me? I mean, sexually? Because, other than _maybe_ today, I’ve never once gotten that feeling from you.’

‘Sexually attracted?’ Sherlock frowns. ‘Oh, no. No, of course not.’

‘Of course not.’ John, suddenly serious, takes a deep breath and looks away. ‘Well then... _what on earth are we talking about here?’_ He jumps up from the sofa. ‘ _What was that kiss, then?!_ Jesus, Sherlock, you are _absolutely infuriating!'_

John violently grabs his coat, yanking it on as he heads for the door.

‘Wait! Wait! I’m sorry, that was indelicate!’ 

John whirls around, fists clenched. Sherlock takes a deep breath and looks up. 

‘Please, _please_ listen to me, this is the truth.’ 

John's eyes narrow, but he remains in place. Sherlock meets his gaze, and continues.

‘Let me ask you something. Do you remember that time...on my birthday? When I got a text from...from the Woman?’

John nods. 

‘And you, you told me about Mary? That the man - the man she thought you were - that’s the man you want to be? And that I should get myself - how did you put it - _a piece of that?’_

John stares at him. Again, he continues.

‘Well, the Woman was...is still...alluring. But really, she just wants me. She’ll never be _that_ for me. And that’s the thing, you see. I’ve actually found that already.’

Again, John says nothing. Bravely, Sherlock proceeds.

‘And there’s something else you said. I’ve been hearing it in my head for weeks…’

‘And that is?’ says John.

‘You find it...but then, it’s gone. Before you know it.’

Silence. Sherlock looks slightly panicked, but rallies himself.

‘Look - when you lived here on Baker Street - it was _good,_ it was...and, and, well, here we are. For the moment, you’re single. As usual, I’m single. And there’s Rosie...and, well -’

‘Ok ok, hang on. Sorry, but I have to stop you there.’ John makes his way back to the sofa and sits down, arms still crossed, thoughtful. ‘Look, I…I think fondly of that time, too. And you’re, bizarrely, really great with Rosie. And if it’s, I dunno, a shared flat you’re talking about -’

‘No, no, that is NOT what I’m talking about.’ 

‘Okay. Well that’s sort of, well, rather shockingly dense of you. Honestly, Sherlock. Because you _know_ me. Even if I could come around to something - something between us - where does that leave me, then? It sounds to me like you’re talking about...commitment. And I can’t even begin to imagine being in a committed but sexless relationship. Full stop.’ 

Sherlock squints. ‘Who said anything about sexless?’

There’s a long, heavy pause. John stares at Sherlock, flabbergast.

‘Um, what? You just said that you aren’t sexually attracted to me.’

‘Yes.’ 

‘Ok. Sorry, but I really don’t follow.’

‘Hmmm.’ Sherlock contemplates this a moment, drumming his fingers on his knee. Brightening, he looks up. 

‘Well, I just kissed you, right?’

‘Yes…’

‘And you...enjoyed it? A bit? Might, just maybe, want to do it again?’

John thinks this over, lips pursed, head cocked to one side. ‘I could conceivably imagine it, yes.’

‘Well then,’ Sherlock smiles, spreading his hands in triumph. ‘There we are.’

John shakes his head. ‘Yes, well it takes more than a bit of snogging to satisfy me, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh yes, I’m aware,’ Sherlock smiles. ‘I’m well acquainted with your dating habits, not to mention your browser history -’

‘What?! Christ, Sherlock -’

‘No, wait wait wait. Look, what I mean to say is, you have needs. Needs that I don’t really have - in any case not to the same degree. But that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t be willing - eager, even - to make sure those needs are met.’

Another pause. John freezes, eyes wide. 

‘In fact, I suspect I might prove to be rather surprisingly capable, when it comes to you. In that regard.’

Sherlock pauses and watches John patiently, his expression revealing the faintest trace of a grin. John leans back against the sofa, takes a deep breath, and then slowly releases it in a long, pressurized stream.

‘Ok. Wow. Ok.’ He stares blankly for a moment, eyes unfocused. ‘So then...hmmm. Again, not sure what to do with this.’ 

Sherlock’s grin disappears, and again he tilts his head in uncertainty.

‘I mean, what exactly are you suggesting?’ John continues. ‘How do you expect to proceed with this? Shall I, I dunno, leap upon you and take you here on the sofa?’

They stare at each other for a long beat. Then both break into laughter. Not quite hysterical, but close. 

‘Mmmm...no,’ says Sherlock, pulling himself together. ‘As interesting an experience as I’m sure that would prove to be, I don’t think we’re _quite_ there yet.’

‘Agreed. But what, then? Pack up your bags, move into my flat?’ 

‘Also tempting. But again, premature.’

‘Yes, okay. Then how _do_ we proceed?’ 

Sherlock waits a moment before he answers.

‘Well, actually, I would suggest…’, he crosses his legs primly, ‘...a _date._ That is what people who are considering a relationship normally do, is it not?’

John shakes his head in disbelief. ‘You want to go on a date. With me.’

‘Yes, I do. More precisely, _I_ want to take _you_ on a date.’ Sherlock leaps up and circles the room, hands behind his back. ‘I’ll make the arrangements, babysitter et cetera. With a bit of mental preparation on my part, I may even successfully remember to pick up the tab. All you have to do,’ he turns to John, ‘is show up.’

‘Huh.’ John frowns. ‘And you don’t think that’ll be a bit...awkward? Weird?’

‘Indeed I do. But my research indicates that ‘awkward’ and ‘weird’ are terms that apply to first dates more or less categorically.’

John laughs, nodding his head in agreement. 

‘Look,’ Sherlock says, returning to his seat. ‘John...would it make you...uncomfortable...if I took your hand?’

‘Yes it would. But...oh, fuck it.’ John reaches out suddenly and closes his hand around Sherlock’s.

‘Um...’ Sherlock says, slightly taken aback, ‘...thank you.’ He contemplates the sudden contact for a quick beat, then looks up. 

‘Okay. Here’s how I see it. Ultimately yes, I would like to move in together. It’s true that that’s my goal. I might even want to formalize things one day - some sort of civil union, I’m not sure how it works exactly - but I’m getting ahead of myself.’

‘Oh yes, you most definitely are.’

‘Yes yes, sorry, forget I said that. And of course you don’t know what to think just yet. So, I conclude that a period of _courtship_ is in order. During which time we can see how things develop, change course if necessary - that’s how these things are traditionally done, correct?’

‘Yep, that’s generally how it works.’

‘Exactly.’ Sherlock breaks into a broad grin and extricates his hand from John's. He rises from the sofa, straightening his shirt and pulling himself up to his full height. 

‘So, Doctor Watson. Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner? Say 8 o’clock Saturday next?’ John looks up at him, shaking his head. ‘Mrs. Hudson is happy to look after Rosie, I’ve already requested it.’

‘Have you now?’ John smiles. 

‘Yes, certainly. And made reservations as well.’

‘Oh really? May I ask where?’

‘A romantic little Italian place, run by an old acquaintance of mine. We ate there together once before, actually. You might not remember, it was a long time ago.’ 

Sherlock’s eyes twinkle. John’s roll. 

‘I can’t believe I’m saying this - but yes, fine. Mr. Holmes, I accept your kind & honorable invitation.’ 

Sherlock exhales in relief. 

‘But,’ says John, narrowing his eyes. ‘I do have one condition.’

‘That is?’

‘You, my dear sir, will refrain from referring to me as an idiot, or insulting my intelligence in ANY WAY, for the duration of the evening. And longer, if you can possibly manage it.’

Sherlock looks down at his toes, then replies, slightly sheepish.

‘Yes. I believe I can do that.’

John smiles.

‘Brilliant.’


End file.
